


The Joke's on You

by MRTL85



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book: Swords and Shields - Varric Tethras, Cremisius Aclassi cameo, F/M, Making Out, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Cullen Rutherford/Female Trevelyan, Minor Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Mutual Pining, Reading Aloud, Rough Sex, They Both Want It Though, book loosely based on Aveline and Donnic's romance, pining actualized, private reading, sex in a book, smutty reading
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:40:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8938285
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MRTL85/pseuds/MRTL85
Summary: A dirty joke in the Western Approach turns into a friendly bet, and Varric ends up biting more off than he can chew.





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Saphir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saphir/gifts).



> TA DA! The edited, and polished edition is up! Thank you once again Saphir for helping! I hope you like it. 
> 
> Also, I take no credit for these characters, they belong to BioWare/EA. The words and drawing of Cassandra though, that's all me.

 

 

“Hey, what do the Carta and pussies have in common?” Varric says, trying to make the long trek across the sweltering sand less tedious.

 

Bull bites. “I dunno, what?”

 

“One slip of the tongue and you're in deep shit.”

 

The laughter it produces is almost contagious and nearly everyone ends up doubled over and holding their sides. Everyone but the Seeker, of course. She’s much too pious to laugh at anything he usually says. Yet, something catches in the corner of his eye, and for a moment, Varric thinks he’s imagining it. The Seeker, _smiling_? He’s got be mistaken. Nothing he ever says makes her smile. But then he glances over again and she is in fact smiling _and_ at something he said, no less.

 

“Well I’ll be damned,” he grins wickedly, “the Seeker has finally cracked a smile at one of my jokes! And here I thought there was no thawing that cold frozen heart of hers.”

 

As soon as the words float off of his tongue, he regrets it. The smile vanishes as quickly as it came and a sneer curls up on her lip, like a dried leaf. Shooting him a dark look, her eyes narrow into slits and she lets out her usual noise of disgust.

 

What a shame, that smile took years off of her. _She should let her guard down a little more often,_ he thinks. Maybe then the whole hard-ass routine would get a rest and she’d actually make some friends for once.

 

“My heart is not frozen Varric. I merely do not like to waste my time with frivolity while on a mission. We could be caught unawares at any moment, and I for one would like to be at the ready.”

 

“Sure Seeker, keep telling yourself that. We all know that the real reason is that you don’t know how to have any fun.”

 

Her head whips around to glare at him as they trudge through the sand. “Of course I know how to have fun! What an absurd accusation. I believe there is a time and place for such things, but traipsing through the Western Approach is not one of them. We can hardly walk one hundred feet without encountering a Varghest or a Quillback and whatever else is lurks in this arid climate. I do not wish to get killed simply because I let my guard down for a moment and tried to have ‘fun’.” Her hands make quotation marks in the air. She’s way to serious about this and he can’t help but rib her more.

 

“Right. And I’m a stone golem,” he says sarcastically and then gets an idea. “I won’t believe it until I’ve seen it, Seeker. Give me your best joke and if you can make me laugh I’ll quit hounding you for the rest of the day. Promise.”

 

He can tell she’s irked by his words, by the way her muscles twitch in her jaw and her fists clench. But then she stops dead in her tracks and the thinly controlled annoyance is gone in an instant. She turns to look at him, hands on hips and says, “All right. Fine. You want a joke, Varric? I’ve got one for you.”

 

He scoffs. “You actually have one at the ready? I’m shocked. I was about to give you a few minutes to figure something out, but if you’ve already got one, then let's here it.” Smirking, Varric thinks that all she’ll have is some lame excuse for a one-liner. Feeling he’s got this in the bag, he grabs out his canteen and takes a long pull of cool water to soothe his parched throat as the rest of the crew waits with bated breath.

 

Cassandra gives him an unimpressed look. “What’s the difference between Bianca’s arrows and the pearl of a woman’s desire?”

 

His brows furrow at the mentioning of his crossbow, but submits regardless between gulps of water. “I don’t know, what?” His lips touch the canteen again and he takes one last swig.

 

“You’ll actually go looking for the arrows.”

 

Not expecting her quip to come with such crudeness at his expense, he chokes. The water sprays out in one glorious fan and the droplets create a momentary rainbow as they hit the scorching sunshine. Trevelyan thankfully comes to the rescue; her hand thumps him on the back a few times to help clear his airways as he coughs. Varric hears stunned chuckling from his companions as he tries to catch his breath. Soon, the chortling turns into full-on gales of laughter and through his watering eyes he can see another genuine smile grace the Seeker's lips.

 

“What about this one,” she says smugly, not wasting any time, “What would it mean if you were in my tent, gasping for breath and calling my name?”

 

He actually feels himself blush at this one—the heat crawls up his chest and sits on his tanned cheeks. The insinuation of the joke hits just a bit too close to home, and thoughts of being intimate with her flood his mind—whether he wants them to or not. The opportunist in him knows he wouldn’t knock the chance to bed her if the circumstance presented itself. That being said, it doesn’t mean that she reciprocates what he feels in the slightest. In fact, it’s a high probability she feels the exact opposite and with the odds stacked against him like that, he’d rather suffer in silence.

 

Varric immediately schools his features, trying to keep an aura of mild indifference even though he knows it’s far from the truth. He hopes no one has noticed. “What?”

 

“I didn’t hold the pillow down long enough.”

 

At this, he laughs. Not because of the joke being particularly comedic, but the relief he feels when it comes off less suggestive than he expects, even _if_ she’s directing it at him.

 

“And I thought it was because I snored,” he says, half-seriously, and at that he laughs even harder. His companions join in and it spurs him into further disarray until tears are lining his lids and he has to wipe them away with a gloved hand.

 

When he’s finally able to calm himself he asks between bouts of chuckles, “Where in the Deep Roads did you learn those?” He really didn’t expect her to come up with anything—dare he say it—as good as that.

 

The Seeker gives him a look that makes him feel foolish for asking while they continue their trek to find someplace suitable to camp. “Where do you think, dwarf? As a warrior I often overhear lewd jokes from the soldiers during their training. And if you’ll believe it, even Cullen has a few up his sleeve.”

 

He can hear a sharp intake of breath from Trevelyan at the mention of Curly’s name and his eyes dart over to see her face is basking in a rosy hue. There’s a story there, but he’s too invested in the situation at hand. He slips the information to the back of his mind for later, and carries on.

 

“Alright, Seeker, you beat me fair and square. I won’t bother you for the rest of the day,” he surrenders, holding his hands up in defeat.

 

She’s suspicious. He sees it in her eyes and her guarded movements. A sigh leaves his lips and he decides as a sign of good faith, he’ll shake on it. “Here,” his hand reaches out toward her, “just so you know I mean business.”

 

Cassandra relents with a roll of the eyes and takes his hand, firmly shaking twice. “As a word of caution, Varric, if you do not uphold your end of the bargain, I will expect retribution. And don’t think you can swindle your way out of it either. There are witnesses.”

 

Bull barks out a laugh and plants a hand on his back, nearly knocking him over with the force. “She’s got you there, Varric. You’re screwed.”

 

“Thanks for having my back, Tiny. I knew I could count on you,” he quips back acerbically, eyes glancing at the slab of muscle walking beside him, then turns back to Cassandra, wary of what sort of pay-back she’s got in mind. “Now, what sort of retribution are we talking about here? I hope it’s not got anything to do with stabbing any more of my books.”

 

“No, what I have in mind is much more… intellectual.” Her eyes twinkle with glee, and he’s not sure if he’s going to regret what comes out of her mouth next or not. “If you fail in stopping yourself from annoying me today, I want you to read one of your stories aloud, publicly, in the great hall.”

 

Was that all? That wasn’t much of a punishment.

 

Varric thinks quickly. “Am I allowed to choose a time?”

 

Cassandra’s eyes narrow. “No, you cannot—I know how you work, dwarf. You would deliberately choose to read in the dead of night just to spite me, if it was up to you. No. You will read at our luncheon meal when the great hall is at it’s fullest capacity.”

 

Damn it all. She had him cornered.

 

It wasn’t so much that Varric didn’t like regaling tales to others, in truth, he liked it very much. It was that he was more used to the relaxed atmosphere of a tavern and a group of friends hanging on to his every word; this recital would include not only the inquisition as a whole but also the stuck up nobles and dignitaries flaunting their connections over the noon tide meal. He cringes at the thought. But hey, a reading is a reading, and even though he isn’t exactly looking forward to it, it might help his book sales a bit.

 

If only there is a way to kill two birds with one stone though. He wants to read something that will be received well by his audience but also wants to piss off of the Seeker for making him do it in the first place.

 

Then it comes to him.

 

He looks up at her, a shadow against the blazing sun. “Alright, it’s a deal.”

 

As expected, he doesn’t live up to the bargain and in short order is condemned to read aloud in the great hall. Cassandra—who looks like the cat who ate the canary—has no idea what she’s in for and he can’t wait to execute his plan so he can wipe the smug look from her face.

 

* * *

 

Varric arranges his reading to happen two days after they return, and in the meantime convinces the Inquisitor to post a notice about his reading around Skyhold. This not only allows him to drum up an even bigger audience, but gives him enough time to go over the story he’s decided to read.

 

It’s easily the worst thing he’s ever written. And even though he could have chosen another, more openly praised book, the compulsive need to irritate the Seeker wins out. After all, it was her idea to bet on whether or not he could keep from riling her up. She should have known by now that it would be a lost cause. Well, whoever said “payback is a bitch” was right, and boy did the Seeker have it coming.

 

Up until going to the Winter Palace, he'd thought of his Romance serial as nothing more than a blemish on his good name. He'd accepted it as a writer's folly, but one that he vowed not to regret. _Swords & Shields_ was originally just an experiment to see if he could break into the Romance genre. The chance to try writing Romance—at Aveline's expense—allowed him to grow as a writer and realize that the genre wasn't for him. Or was it? How wrong he had been to assume no one liked it. Not only did the nobles in the Orlesian court love his books in general, but his shameful Romance serial actually had a pretty big following among the noblewomen.

 

He realizes now that his books could have actually been more profitable if he had only opened his eyes to what his publisher was doing to him. It still ticked Varric off that his publisher would blatantly steal from him like that. All those royalties gone. He could have used the extra money to further aid the rebuilding of Kirkwall, but now it was lining the son-of-a-bitch's pockets. Damn that bastard all the way to the Deep Roads!

 

 _Swords & Shields_ is the perfect book for the job. Not only would it be adequately acceptable to the nobles and dignitaries alike, but it would royally piss off the Seeker to no end. And if he’s going to read the damn thing aloud, he might as well have some fun while doing it.

 

* * *

 

The icy wind whips around his form as he makes his way up the stone steps. A shiver snakes its way along his back and he picks up the pace, eager to reach the warmth coming from inside the great hall. As he nears the massive doors, he sees the expansive room is bustling with folks from all walks of life; though whether they're there for his reading or the grub, he can't honestly say.

 

The book he intends to read is tucked under his arm as he strolls in and a lull settles among the people. They turn and look at him expectantly, and he reciprocates with a confident smile. He then looks for her. She's tall and distinctive enough that he doesn't have any trouble at all finding her. Cassandra is leaning on the far wall, talking quietly with the Inquisitor, and he breathes a sigh of relief. This whole thing would be a real disappointment if she decided not to show. She looks up, and their eyes meet. He gives her a shit-eating grin and a wave of his fingers. Cassandra pushes herself off of the wall, rolls her eyes and sneers in his direction. The Inquisitor is much more friendly however, returning his greeting with a bright smile; the reception is like night and day and he can't help but wonder how they get along so well.

 

Varric flags down a servant on his way to where Trevelyan's throne sits and asks her if she can bring some food and ale for his parched throat. She nods and heads off, while he flips through his personal copy of _Swords & Shields. _Finding the place marker he left for himself, he walks up the steps and turns around, looking out onto the sea of faces before him.

 

He clears his throat. “Welcome, and thank you all for taking time out of your day to come and hear me read. Before I begin, I would just like to give some recognition to the person who made this all possible. Without her, this wouldn’t have happened. Seeker, why don’t you come up here and take a bow.” He watches in delight as all the colour drains from her face, eyes wide in surprise. She’s shaking her head at him now, trying to be as inconspicuous as ever, but failing miserably. Cassandra wants him to forgo this idea and carry on with the reading, but he can’t. He’s too invested in making her squirm. Next to her, Trevelyan smiles and gives her a gentle push that sends her lumbering forward like a wooden doll. The audience claps her onward. Stiffly, she ascends up the steps and shoots daggers at him with her eyes while crossing in front of him to be at his side. If looks could kill, he’d be dead ten times over by now, but it’s completely worth her scorn—and he hasn’t even gotten to the best part yet.

 

She turns to face the audience next to him, but stands like a stone statue, gazing awkwardly out toward the crowd. As an aside, he urges her with a whisper, “Take a bow, Seeker. They’re waiting.”

 

Her torso dips disjointedly at his command, her fidgeting hands moving from front to back as if trying to hide her vulnerability. He can see she’s nervous and not wanting to take credit where credit is due. To be honest though, he can’t see why she’s so unnerved. Most of the time, she has no problem with standing up in front of people and voicing her opinions, usually with all the tact of a great bear.

 

After the clapping dies down a bit, she speaks. “Uh, thank you Varric for agreeing to do this and on such short notice, no less. I can see by the turn-out that many are eagerly awaiting to see what you’ve chosen to read, so please, do not let me keep you. And to the rest of you, enjoy.” Cassandra gives a nod and quickly descends the stairs, finding her place back among the gathering of people. He smirks at her retreating form. She’s trying to hide among the onlookers, he muses. She returns to her spot next to Trevelyan in the middle of the throng as if hanging out in the thick of things will save her in some way. Little does she know that it will make the whole thing more amusing.

 

The servant returns with vittles and a tankard of ale just in time. He motions for her to bring a small table up to where he stands, and to place the food and ale upon it, so he can eat and drink at his leisure. She does so quickly, and then backs away through the big wooden door, in the direction of the kitchens.

 

 _Here goes nothing_ , he says to himself, as he unfolds his golden eyeglasses and perches them on the end of his broken nose.

 

Varric’s eyes glance up over the gold frames to survey the crowd. “I have chosen to read a passage from one of my lesser known serials— _Swords & Shields.” _Some of the women in the congregation gasp at the name, and a knowing smile rises up like a wave on his lips.

 

He gives one last look at Cassandra, whose face has now gone from its usual tanned appearance to red as spindleweed, and her mouth hangs ajar. The change is drastic enough to make him do a double take, and his brows furrow in confusion.

 

Why in the void would her demeanor change so drastically at the mention of this book? Unless… no, there was no way in Thedas she’d read romance serials, let alone his. There was just no way. Maybe she’d heard about it in passing from one of the noblewomen? Yeah, that had to be it. She must have overheard how trashy it was, and is now stunned at the fact he's chosen it for his public reading.

 

Well, that spoils things a bit, if she knows what _Swords & Shields _is about. But maybe he can salvage his dastardly plan. Varric flips through the pages and finds the alternate passage he made sure to mark, just in case.

 

He takes a pull from his tankard and begins.

 

 

 _The cool ocean breeze drifted in off the battered coast as the Knight-Captain and Guardsman trekked over the sand dunes while on patrol, being mindful to stay sharp; vigilance was key now_ _that_ _the light of day was fading. There was no telling when or where thugs would spring an attack_ _,_ _and they needed to be ready for anything._ _Something was in the air_ _,_ _the Knight-Captain could sense it. Silently signaling the Guardsman, she gently drew her weapons, and readied her shields. She was certain an ambush was on the horizon but when, she couldn’t say…_

 

 

He reads on, telling of how the Knight-Captain and Guardsman are ambushed by a group of marauders who have been wanting revenge for the capture of one of their own. Before they know it, the Guardsman and Knight-Captain have been surrounded with no where to go. They must fight or be killed.

 

 

 _Arrows flew swiftly and swords clashed as they battled their way through the mob of raiders, but it wasn't enough. The Guardsman stumbled as he took a heavy blow, rendering him wounded and vulnerable. The Knight-Captain knew she needed to protect him, even though waves of enemies c_ _ame_ _at them from all angles. It was vital to ensure he lived to see another day, for she had carried a secret with her that still needed to be said—especially now—when his life hung in the balance. She slashed and cut with the strength of ten men, her ire a wild storm, as the raiders piled up and la_ _y slain at her gilded feet. The Knight-Captain couldn’t allow anyone to endanger the emotion she had held so close to her heart for so long:_ _s_ _he had come to love the Guardsman._

 

 

At this declaration, Varric glances up to gauge Cassandra’s reaction. He’s hoping for a sneer, or for a faint noise of disgust to erupt from her lips, but it’s not the case. She appears almost riveted on the spot, with her lip between her teeth, and a sultry smile that could make even a Warden blush. It’s one heck of a sight, and something he definitely doesn’t expect. It sets a coal of desire smoldering low in his belly.

 

Well, shit.

 

His heart skips a beat, and colour rushes up to cover his chest and cheeks alike. Varric catches himself gawking and coughs nervously as he adjusts his spectacles, which are threatening to slide down his nose. Dangerous ideas flicker through his mind for a moment, and he needs something to reel himself in: ale. He fumbles with the tankard and takes a gulp of the bitter brew to clear his thoughts. Thankfully, it works, and he vows not to look at Cassandra while reading the rest of the story. It’s much too distracting.

 

Varric’s eyes flick back to the page in front of him. All he needs to do is get through this, and he can go get shitfaced. He can't believe Cassandra seems to enjoy listening to this stuff. This wasn't how it was supposed to happen at all. She was supposed to dislike this sort of shit! He assumed she'd just walk out or make unimpressed comments at him, not turn into a puddle of beautiful romantic mush. Varric now feels he's bit off more than he can chew, but he's come this far, he might as well go all the way. Let it never be said he did things half-assed.

 

 

_The deed was done; the band of marauders had been defeated at last, but all she could think of was the one who had stolen her heart. The Knight-Captain flung her shield and sword into the sand, using every ounce of strength left to get to the wounded Guardsman._

_Sand was expelled in a cloud of dust as she fell at his side. Her brows knitted together in worry as she pulled him close, raising him up onto her armoured thighs and cradling him in her arms. Ever so gently, the Knight-Captain_ _removed his helm_ _, half expecting lifeless eyes to stare back at her. Instead, she found him unconscious but breathing. A weighted sigh of relief found its way out_ _,_ _and she brushed the sweat_ _-_ _soaked fringe from his face. At the tender touch, his eyes fluttered open, and a weak smile crept up_ _on_ _his lips._

_“I knew you would defeat them,” he said unexpectedly, his voice rough around the edges with pain._

_She flashed him a soft smile. “But at what cost? If you had died…” The Knight-Captain left the sentence unfinished, burdened with all that she was afraid to say._

_“I am still here, and plan on being around for a very long time,” the Guardsman vowed, covering her hand with his own, a tender touch that didn’t go unnoticed._

_Her heart snagged on the sentiment. “That is good to hear_ _,_ _because there is something I wish to say, and given recent events, it’s important I say them now more than ever.”_

_“Yes?” He waited expectantly, eyes searching for the answer in her freckled features._

_She felt her cheeks grow hot at the very thought of telling him of her affections. “I- I have found myself growing quite fond of you, Guardsman. So fond, in fact, that it may have turned into… love.”_

_His hand found its way to her rosy cheek. “That makes two of us, Analine.”_

 

 

Shit. He shouldn’t have looked. He said he wasn’t going to look, but curiosity must have gotten the better of him. _Why does my mind always find a way to betray me, h_ e groans inwardly, at his lack of self control.

 

Her finger is trapped between her lips in torrid contemplation now, eyes alight with the glow from the fire bowls that flank the crowd, and damn if it isn’t the sexiest sight he’s seen in a long time. He feels the book almost slip from his fingers at his astonishment; however, he manages to catch it before it leaves his hands.

 

Fuck.

 

Varric clears his throat again, and tries desperately to center himself. He needs to hurry this up, if he’s going to get through this with the appearance of being unaffected. Trouble is, he knows where this passage is leading, and it isn't anywhere that's going to help the half-formed, entirely inappropriate, thoughts of the Seeker he's having right now. But maybe he can stop short. There is a pretty big chance that she has no idea how intense the end of this passage gets. Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. He’ll stop after the kiss.

 

 

 _Hearing her given name on his lips in such a tender voice made her heart thunder in her chest like a charging bronto. He loved her too; how her soul took flight at the thought_ _!_

  _“Oh Dominic,” she sighed_ _,_ _and leaned down until scarcely a breath lay between them._

  _Then, his lips were upon hers. The kiss was gentle and romantic, setting her caged heart alight and she couldn’t help but wish to stay like th_ _at_ _for eternity._

 _All too soon the kiss ended, but what it left was now tattooed on her very soul. Her lips burned where his had met hers and she licked them eagerly, trying to soothe them_ _, but_ _to no avail. If he were not wounded, she would have surely tried a second attempt at a kiss, but it wasn’t the time. He needed assistance, and soon._

 _Finding the_ _wound's_ _point of entry, Analine knew she needed to stunt the flow of the dark, sticky blood which seeped down the side of his rib cage and onto the back part of his breastplate. Taking her kerchief from around her neck, she pressed it firmly to his side. He winced, his eyes scrunching closed and his brows knitting together in pain, but they both knew it was necessary. Then, when she deemed the blood flow from the long, angry gash had been slowed, she looked for a health potion. Finding one in the satchel at her waist, she opened the glass and held it to his lips. He drank it without complaint, although the taste was horrid and a grimace flashed over his features as he finished the liquid. Now, all she needed to do was wait for the effects to take place and hopefully he would be well enough to move in short order. Night was fast approaching, and she knew they could not stay out in the open for long._

_Analine had seen a cave up the pass earlier on their patrol, and knowing that the marauders had been taken care of, there was high chance that it was vacant. Dominic would not be strong enough to take back to the city tonight; they would have to take their chances in the cavern._

  _“Do you think you are well enough to walk?”_

  _Dominic gave her a smile. “I think so. It still hurts like the Void, but the cut should be healed enough from the potion as long as we go slow.”_

  _Analine nodded and helped him slowly to his feet. Pulling his good arm around her strong shoulders for support and hooking her own around his waist and by the fading light, they traipsed in the direction of the cave._

 

 

Finally, he’s finished. The book snaps shut and he looks up once more, careful to avoid glancing in Cassandra’s direction. Masking his awkwardness, Varric slides a winning smile into place, and the audience claps their appreciation.

 

In the lull that follows, Varric gives a quick plug to some of his other books. It’s a bit commercial for his taste, but if he’s ever going to recover from his publisher’s theft, he’s going to have to keep drumming up interest. “Thanks to all of you who came to hear me read today. If you like what you’ve heard, please feel free to check out my more prominent books, _Hard in Hightown_ and _The Tale of the Champion.”_ A bow finishes everything off and the people begin to disperse, going back to their duties for the day.

 

_What the fuck just happened?_

 

Admittedly, he knows the Seeker is attractive, but that isn't it; he had met loads of beautiful women in his time, and had no trouble keeping his thoughts clean. He could just blame it on the way she gazed seductively at him throughout the reading, but that wasn't quite right either. One thing is for certain, though. Whatever happened between them, he's sure as shit not going to stick around to find out. Time and space are what he needs but whether it was from her or the situation itself, he couldn't tell just yet.

 

Varric leaves his now-cold food and the tankard of ale without a second thought, zipping down and out of the main hall with the book still hot in his hand, not even giving a backward glance at Cassandra as he passes her. He knows he’s quit the field like a Maker-damned coward, but needs out and fast. The urge to take stock of the situation pulls him swiftly down the steps and toward the Herald’s Rest, the prospect of strong liquor appealing to his puzzled mind.

  
 


	2. part ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Varric finds himself posed with a question he can't quite refuse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, part ii is largely unedited, but I promise to update it with the edited version as soon as I get it. 
> 
> Again, I own nothing but the words and the drawing of Cass. Everything else belongs to BioWare/EA.

**PART II**

 

“I don’t know what happened, Tiny,” Varric says, into a large tankard that Bull had given him. “One minute I thought I had it in the bag, and the next… she’s throws me off with those eyes and that smile and-,” Varric groans and curses under his breath; He's slipped up, and said something he shouldn't. Wincing at his folly, he thumps his flagon down a bit too hard and alcohol sloshes out over the side, splashing upon the wooden bar top. Andraste’s tits! Bull’s Maraas-Lok is taking his inhibitions and throwing them to the Maker-damned wind! This secret is going to cost him, isn’t it? He knows damn well he’ll have to pay through the nose to keep Tiny’s mouth shut.

 

Bull chuckles at the unprecedented confession and claps Varric on the back, fondly. “She obviously doesn’t hate you nearly as much as you think—not after how she acted to hearing you read. And,” Bull adds, “it looks like you don’t hate her as much as you thought either.”

 

Varric’s insides are screaming at him to stop talking, but he can’t do it. The urge to know if Bull has come to the same conclusion draws his curiosity in, and holds fast. Raising an eyebrow, he masks his interest by acting skeptical. “We are still talking about the same person, right—tall, grumpy Seeker? Who’s soul purpose seems to be making my life a living nightmare?”

 

“The proof is staring you right in the face, if you only cared enough to look. Come on, of all people, I thought you would have figured it out by now,” Tiny coaches, taking another pull from his tankard. Then, an amused expression rises on his face. “You want to know what I think? I think you know _exactly_ what it means, but you just don’t want to admit it to yourself.”

 

He, the rogue and storyteller having actual romantic feelings for the Seeker? The woman who captured and interrogated him more than a year ago? As unbelievable as it seems, he knows that Tiny’s hit the nail on the head. He can feel it in every skip in his heartbeat, in every time his pulse quickens at the sight of her. But what of the Seeker? Was what Bull said, true? Could there be a possibility that she feels the same as he does? His heart skips like a stone over water at the prospect.

 

Maferath's balls, he's doomed.

 

Varric masks his emotions and his lips curve into a sly grin. “Is that what you told Sparkler when he snuck into your quarters the other night?”

 

Bull slaps his knee, and barks out a surprised laugh. “Damn straight! I mean come on, who wouldn’t want to brag about having all this?” He gestures to his ripped musculature, giving a cocky grin and Varric laughs. Thankfully Bull’s decided against pursuing the subject further and they both take another pull of the intense Qunari brew.

 

As he places his tankard—less forcefully this time—upon the bar next to _Swords & Shields_, Varric hears footsteps approach from behind. Just from the sound, he knows who is behind him. Bull clears his throat awkwardly, giving a stiff nod in Cassandra’s direction as she stands just out of Varric’s sight. “So, I, uh, guess I’ll see you ‘round Varric. Maybe we could get in a game of Wicked Grace later, if your up for it?”

 

He eyes Bull as he stands, towering over him. “Sure thing, Tiny. Lookin' forward to it.” Bull nods his approval and turns to find his usual spot in the Tavern, taking the rest of his Maraas-Lok with him.

 

Without glancing in her direction, he senses more than sees Cassandra sit beside him on a stool. “Hello Varric.”

 

“Seeker,” he nods in greeting. “What can I do for you?” Varric chances a furtive glance at her and finds a blush upon the blades of her cheekbones. The sight catches him off guard again and to hide his surprise, he takes another gulp from his tankard.

 

Why was she so embarrassed? If anyone should be embarrassed, it’s him. How foolish he’d been to assume she’d be irritated and unnerved by his choice of literature. Varric walked straight into that one, on his own accord. That being said, there was no way in all of Thedas that he’d admit it to anyone but himself. He’d rather carry on as if nothing of any consequence happened then admit he was wrong.

 

Cassandra flags down Cabot, asking for a tankard of some Antivan brandy. He grumbles about not having the time to go hunt some down but looks in the back regardless, and a few minutes later it is presented to her, much to her appreciation.

 

Varric watches her hands as they wrap around the curved wood, fiddling with the handle of her own flagon for a moment, tracing the pewter holding it together. “May I ask you something?”

 

“Shoot,” he replies halfheartedly, his lips spreading into a thin line, wanting nothing more than for her to leave him to his own devices. If he told her to get lost though, it would make matters worse and he really didn’t want to deal with the fall out. So, he waits for her to continue, taking another swig from his tankard.

 

When the silence stretches out into awkward territory, he steals another look at her. She’s sitting on the stool, clearly deliberating with what to say. Suddenly she squares her shoulders and turns to him. “Why did you not finish reading the chapter?” Her voice bleeds out into the space between them. It’s surprisingly low, not much more than a whisper and Varric has to strain to hear the words she speaks over the noise.

 

Then it hits him with the force of an avalanche. She’s actually—read— _S_ _words & Shields. _Not only that, but she knew all along where the chapter was heading. And here he thought that she’d just overheard what it was about from some nobles in passing. He should have picked up on that when she became flustered at the mention of the book! Looking back on it, he realizes now that it was completely obvious. If only he’d gotten past trying to wind her up, he might have actually have seen it coming.

 

“Are you quite alright, Varric?” Cassandra asks, her brows crease together in concern at his blank stare. He shakes his head at her words and squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, trying to wrap his head around it all. Then, his brows furrow and he turns slowly to face her, staring like she’s got two heads. “I’m sorry, but did you just ask me why I didn’t finish reading the chapter?”

 

She shifts swiftly away from him, avoiding his gaze and fiddles with the handle of her drink again. “Yes, is that so hard to believe? Is there some law out there stating that warriors are banned from reading books of a romantic persuasion?” Cassandra frowns for a moment, but her scowl clears and turns to look at him once more.

Mild shock echos in his mind. “N- no, I just didn’t think you were interested in books like that. In actual fact,” he muses, “I always had you pegged as more of a _Hard in Hightown_ kinda woman.” Varric smirks at the unimpressed face she makes and takes another sip from his tankard. “To answer your first question though, If I _had_ read everything in that chapter, you and I both know the nobles probably would have fainted from the scandal it would have caused.” A chuckle rumbles up from his chest at the idea and it triggers a lop sided smile to pull at the corner of her mouth. Leaving it at that, he returns to his drink, relieved he’s able to hide his lie in plain sight. He’d rather tell her it’s too racy for decent company than the true reason for cutting it short.

 

Cassandra sighs. “You know, just because I am blunt and self-righteous doesn't mean that I don't enjoy things like romance novels. I may be a warrior Varric, but that is not _all_ I am.”

 

“Duly noted. I’ll have to remember that,” Varric answers with a thoughtful nod, enlightened by her words. This confession allows him to see a glimpse of the inner Seeker he’s never been privy to. It’s intriguing and he feels the pull of curiosity in his mind, wanting to know more.

 

Cassandra turns from him then and bows her head, staring into her mug of brandy. “That is not what I came here to speak with you, however,” her voice reticent. “I-,” she falters and closes her eyes for a moment, letting a soft sigh escape her lips. “I’m wondering, if perhaps, you might be willing to finish reading the chapter. For me.” She turns and looks up at him through her long lashes, a rosy glow touching her cheeks and damn it, he’s gobsmacked. The question blindsides him completely and everything slows to a crawl as his brain trips over her response. What in the Void was happening? Had he died and gone to the Fade?

 

He finally has the sense to pick his jaw up off the floor and close his mouth. Of all the blighted things she could ask him, he _never_ expected her to ask that. Fumbling blindly for his drink, he grasps at it blindly and chugs the rest of the contents in one go.

 

“Say that again?” He manages out at last, his voice cracking with uncertainty, fingers letting his flagon hang loosely as it hovers just below his chin.

 

“I would like you to finish reading the chapter for me. Privately,” she says, with just enough of an edge to be irritated by his incessant asking.

 

“Me? Give you,” he points to himself in disbelief then at her, eyebrows almost touching his hairline, “a private reading?” She’s got to be pulling his leg. This has to be some Maker damned joke. It has to be.

 

Cassandra sighs, exasperated. “Yes,” the word slithers out of her lips like a snake, “do you need your ears cleaned out, dwarf?” Agitation flares in her features and her eyes narrow dangerously at him.

 

Ancestors, she’s serious.

 

She want’s to be read to, privately. And by him, no less. What Maker damned thing did he do to deserve this?

 

“N- no, just checking I heard you right, is all,” Varric stutters, the idea of reading the rest of the chapter to her whirs around his head like some dwarven machine. Given what happened in the great hall mere hours ago, he isn’t exactly sure that it’s a good idea. Not when they both know damn well the chapter heads into racy territory and _especially_ when she allowed the pleasure she got from it to be written all over her face. It took everything in his power not to be affected by her flushed cheeks and sultry gaze the first time, how was he going to be able to cope if he had to read to her alone?

 

Would it really be so bad though if she found out that he had burgeoning feelings for her? He knows there’s a definite chance she would kick his ass if he came onto her, but then again, she was the one forcing his hand in this by asking him to read the rest of such a risqué chapter; the fault isn’t entirely his. And who’s to say that she might not also have growing feelings for him? Tiny thought so. That meant it wasn’t outside of the realm of possibility, specifically considering _what_ she is asking him to finish reading. If it were any other chapter in the book, sure. He could just brush it off as Cassandra being a fan. But this chapter—the one filled with smut? This made him suspicious.

 

“Alright,” he says after a long sigh, “I’ll do it.”

 

Her eyes light up at his accedence. “Truly? It’s not too much trouble, is it?”

 

Varric chuckles at her instant excitement. “No, no trouble,” he says, hiding behind the mask of a smile. As soon as he agrees though, his stomach fills with fluttering wings and his heart feels like it wants to burst from his chest like a charging bronto. Was it the right decision to say yes? Is he actually prepared for what might come after? It both scares and enthralls him in equal measure.

 

Cassandra looks at him suspiciously. “You’re sure? Your not just saying yes, are you?”

 

“Yes, I’m sure. Promise,” he insists, even though he feels like hiding under a rock for a week. Nervousness is one thing, but what he’s feeling at this moment? It trumps nerves completely.

 

She lowers her voice and leans closer to him. “Do you have some time now?”

 

Shit.

 

She wants to be read to _now_? Andraste’s Ass, she doesn’t waste any time, does she? And here he thought he was going to get some time to prepare himself. He’s really regretting saying anything at all.

 

He rubs at his eyes with a hand and lets out a heavy sigh. “Look, it’s been a long day, Seeker. Ma-”

Before he can even finish the sentence, she reaches out and covers his hand with her own. Her palm is rough but gentle on the back of his fingers, callouses that she’s built up during her years as a fighter, rub against his knuckles. Her touch is like fire against his skin, scorching, and he feels enraptured by the simple yet powerful gesture.

 

“please?”

 

She’s pulled at his heartstrings now, with a touch of her hand and those bright, hopeful eyes staring back at him. Varric knows instantly he’s condemned himself to this. Fuck, he’s never going to be able to deny her anything ever again if she asks like that, is he?

 

He submits regretfully, with a groan. “Alright, fine. Meet me outside my room in, say, quarter of an hour.” Then, not being able to resist, he adds “I mean, I would suggest your room since it’s closer, but I actually enjoy being comfortable while reading.”

 

At his jab, Cassandra’s mouth pulls into a thin line—clearly unimpressed—but does not dignify his barb with a rebuttal at all. “Fine, since you will be the one narrating it.”

 

He grins. “It’s settled then.”

 

At that, she gives him a small, genuine smile, quirking her head in his direction to say “see you later” and slides off of her stool. As she makes her way to the door of the Herald's Rest, he tries not to watch her go, but with the way her hips sway in time to Maryden’s ballad, he’s having a hard time of it. Varric’s heart skips a beat as she disappears outside and he turns back before he gets caught ogling. Taking a few steadying breaths through his nose, Varric rubs a hand over his face, feeling the prickle of his ever growing stubble on his palm.

 

_You’re fucked, Tethras, absolutely fucked._

 

With a groan, he gets off of his stool, the movement leaving his stiff legs with a twinge of pain. “Well, I think I’ve had enough for tonight. See ya’ later barkeep,” he says to Cabot, while stretching out the ache in each leg. Then, he digs in his coin purse, leaving a few crowns on the bar for the drinks before he grabs _Swords & Shields_, tucking it under his arm securely and heads in Bull’s direction.

 

“Hey Tiny,” Varric utters, “Look, I uh, was wondering if you could keep what we talked about earlier to yourself, if you could.”

 

A shit-eating grin splits the Qunari’s mouth in two. “How much are we talking about here?”

 

Varric looks in his coin purse, counting up the money in his head. “ten royals.”

 

Bull cocks an eyebrow and laughs. “Nice try.”

 

Varric’s lips press into a thin line. “Fine. Fifteen, take it or leave it.”

 

Tiny nods his approval and Varric hands over the remaining coins, reluctantly. His guarantee that the matter would stay between them better be worth all the money he’s forking out. “So, you still down for our game tonight?

 

Bull chuckles. “Shouldn’t _I_ be the one asking _you_ that,” he says with a perceptive grin, his one visible eyebrow wiggling suggestively. “I mean, sure, but it looks like you’ll be _indisposed_.”

 

Shit, they hadn’t been so discreet after all. That or Bull’s Ben-Hassrath training is working overtime.

 

Varric laughs at the allegation, but it lacks his usual mirth. “Me? Indisposed? Ha! I don’t think so. Don’t you worry your pretty little head Tiny, I’ll be there,” he lets a smug smile tug at the corners of his mouth. “that is, if Sparkler doesn’t get his manicured paws on you in the meantime.” With that, he winks and turns to leave, letting Bull’s laughter boom out behind him.

 

Pushing open the heavy wooden door of the Herald’s Rest, Varric is met with the cold, clean mountain air and he breathes it in greedily. Exhaling with a sigh, it stills the worry and anxiety that stirs inside of his belly at the thought of reading to Cassandra. He needs a distraction.

 

“How’s things?” he asks Harding, as he walks over to her.

 

She smiles at him, thankful for the company. “Not too bad, you?

 

“I can’t complain. So, what brings you back into Skyhold?”

 

“We’ve just stopped by for some supplies and a change of personnel. Not me though. In-dis-pensible.”

 

Varric chortles. “I know how you feel. I swear if we weren’t around, the human’s would start causing shit and blow something else up. It’s a good thing we provide such a stabilizing influence, otherwise they’d be lost without our help.”

 

Scout Harding giggles and nods in an empathetic manner.

 

“So, what are you up to this fine evening, Varric?”

 

“Oh, you know, the same old stuff,” he says nonchalantly. “Reading, writing and some Wicked Grace thrown in for good measure. You?”

 

“Once we’re done here, we’re off to the Emerald Graves, but I doubt we’ll be leaving tonight. Dawn is more likely the case,” she answers thoughtfully. “You know, I love leaving then, all those magnificent colours painted across the sky...” Harding’s eyes gloss over and he can tell Cassandra isn't the only romantic roaming around Skyhold.

 

“Well, whenever you leave, good luck and stay safe.”

 

“Thanks. Have a good evening, Varric,” she replies, giving him a wave as he leaves.

 

Gesturing his own wave back at her, he begins trudging in the direction of his room, heart abruptly jumping into his throat as he returns to the task at hand. Taking in a deep breath, he pushes it out slowly through his lips as he walks, trying with all his might to drive away the fluttering of wings that now fill his stomach too. Thankfully, as he enters the great hall, most of the nobles that congregate there have retired for the evening. He’s glad for it. The ever-watchful eyes of the nobles are always a going concern; they wouldn’t hesitate to gossip about anything and everything that took their fancy.

 

Varric crosses the great hall with ease. He makes his way up the stairs and past the Iron Lady’s parlour and then on to the big, heavy door to the guest wing. Giving a strong tug at the ring, it opens unwillingly, bringing him onto the balcony style walkway to his room. Up there, the wind bites a bit more than it did on the ground, and he shivers as the cold air travels across his chest and up his back. It helps though. His nerves need the icy blast to dull his other senses and calm him.

Lingering in the doorway for just a moment longer, while he's cloaked in shadow, he watches her uninterrupted as she waits by his door. Emotions roll off her body like a wave; she’s shifting from foot to foot, hands worrying themselves in front of her and looking nothing like the strong, fierce woman he knows her to be.

 

It's a clandestine sight, but one he's grateful to have witnessed.

 

She’s nervous—probably as nervous as he is, in fact. Not that he'd let her see it, of course. It would stay safely behind the artifice of wit and diplomacy he had so carefully constructed for himself. Or at least until he knew for certain that she was as interested as he was.

 

He takes a deep lungful of cold air, and exhales; his warm breath floating up like a ghost in the night. Watching it rise until it disappears, he steps out onto the walkway, the facade of a grin attached to his lips and walks toward her. For the moment, she has her back turned to him and he coughs, alerting her to his presence.

 

“Oh!” Cassandra exclaims, turning abruptly. As soon as she realizes it’s him, the surprised look vanishes and with a sigh, a scowl forms in its place. “Why must you sneak up on me like that! I could have killed you, dwarf!”

 

“look Seeker, if you wanted to kill me, you could have done it years ago,” Varric tells her impassively, keys jingling in his pocket as he pulls them out. It was the truth, though. He had seen her in action enough to know she could cut him down in a second if she'd wanted to. The fact he was still standing definitely said something--probably meaning he hadn't pissed her off enough.

 

A disgusted noise floats up between them, her arms crossing defensively, but she doesn’t push it any further. Instead, she waits quietly as he unlocks the door with a turn of his wrist.

 

Varric needs both hands in order to work the door open properly. “Here, hold this a moment, will ya’?” he instructs as the book gets pushed into her folded arms, not waiting for her to actually take the tome. It nearly falls as Cassandra’s arms unwork themselves, but she manages to grab it in time. Finally, he pushes it open and with a sweep of his hand, gestures her inside. “After you.”

 

Her eyes flick up from the cover of his personal copy to meet his in the moonlight. She holds his gaze for a few seconds, before giving a nod and moving past him into his room without so much as a word. It’s mildly unnerving. She’s prone to silence—that much is true—but for some reason he feels this carries more weight with it than usual. He swallows thickly once she’s out of sight, and looks upward toward the starry sky searching for some last minute guidance from the Maker. When none comes, he lets out a sigh and hangs his head.

 

_You're on your own, Tethras. Lets make the best of it._

 

He straightens with more confidence than he feels and turns to face the inky blackness of his dark room, Cassandra hidden inside. Decisively, he steps over the threshold with his head held high and a lazy grin upon his face, the door shutting behind him with a hollow creak and a click.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	3. Part iii

**Part III**

 

 

 

Cassandra steps into his darkened room, and is immensely thankful for it. Her cheeks and ears burn with a heated blush—one she intends to keep to herself, if it can be helped. For the hundredth time she wonders how she thought this was a good idea. Why did she think that getting Varric to read the rest of the chapter privately would be so casual? The fact it ends on an erotic note throws all causality out the window. This is not something associates did. Or even friends, for that matter. This was something people did if they were _together._ For people who are courting. Lovers.

 

Of course, the burgeoning feelings for him hadn’t effected her decision _at all_ , she thinks caustically to herself. Not in the slightest. Not when his deep, gravelly voice rushed over her, a river of words coaxing out feelings for him she’d kept buried deep as he read aloud in the great hall. A moment of weakness, and now she’s here—in his room, no less—waiting for him to read the rest of a smutty chapter to her out of her favourite book. There is no way he will not suspect something is afoot. He’s too astute not to and her blush deepens at the thought.

 

She’s a fool for asking and should have known better, but she couldn’t help herself, could she? Her duty was superseded by her personal afflictions during a rare moment of weakness, and now she is stuck between a rock and a hard place. Telling Varric that this wasn’t what she wants isn’t an option, because in truth, she wants it very much.

 

She isn’t completely comfortable with allowing to have her heart on her sleeve like this. It isn’t something she does. And having feelings for the dwarf? It’s as ludicrous as it sounds. But she can’t go on denying it either. Not when it’s becoming so prevalent as of late.

 

The progression of feelings was slow, almost undetectable to her mind in such matters—Arbitrary thoughts of Varric popping up, the unusual need to look out for him on the battlefield, and the worry that came when he was hurt. All these things over time had compounded into what she could only consider now as a particular... fondness. And then there was that day when he had told that—frankly awful—joke. If only she had willed herself not to smile. That smile had been her downfall and created this mess.

 

She hears the door creak and click behind her, announcing Varric’s entrance. Not wanting him to catch the embarrassment that is written all over her face, she remains turned away. And no doubt, he’d tease her about it to no end. But it wasn’t so much as the teasing that bothered her. In fact, she secretly enjoyed it. It’s because her vulnerability is on display. And that is what unnerves her the most.

 

The strike of a match and the hiss of fire coming to life sound out in the silence of the room. Daring a peak over her shoulder, she sees him walk around to every candelabra, cupping the match and touching it to each candle. Soon his room is bathed in a warm glow and shadows flicker upon the walls as the flames dance about on every wick.

 

Varric sighs and places his hands on his hips. “There. Now we can see.”

 

“Yes. Much better,” Cassandra mutters as she finally turns to him. She wishes that she could have a few more minutes of darkness to hide the red that streaks across her cheeks, but it’s too late now. If he’s noticed, he doesn’t speak of it—much to her relief.

 

“Here,” the book is held out at arms reach, an abrupt gesture that seems more awkward than she would like. He looks at her curiously, before taking _Swords & Shields_ from her hand. “Drink?” Varric offers as he places the book on his desk and goes for his decanter. Cassandra nods her head. If she’s going to get through this, she’ll need something to tame her nerves, now the cold has been shut out by his door. He hands her a goblet, and she takes it gladly.

 

“thank you,” she utters. The aroma hits her nose and she brings it to her lips—Antivan spiced wine. Its warmth blooms within her like a flower. The tension starts to melt from her shoulders, and they relax as she savours the taste. Once her eyes open, she finds Varric sitting in the chair by his desk, eyeglasses upon his nose, and in his lap rests _Swords & Shields_. He flips the vellum pages with a sturdy finger, trying to find the correct passage and she can’t help but wonder what his fingers would feel like on her skin. She can feel the heat burn her cheeks and her eyes flick to the page he’s scanning, in hopes he won’t catch the near constant colour that rests on them. Then she spots something intriguing. Script written in the margins. She comes closer and sits upon his bed, leaning over the foot rail to see if she can make out what he’s written.

 

“It helps the proofreading process... I always mark my personal copies before I send it to my editor for finalizing.”

 

She looks up to find him staring at her with a half smile. “Oh. That makes sense.”

 

“I promise you though, it’s boring stuff. Mostly corrections in spelling and phrasing. No juicy details on the Knight Captain or the Guardsman I’m afraid,” He chuckles.

 

Disappointment flits across her features. She had always wondered what Varric personally thought of his characters. But the night was still young, and he could very well entertain her speculation. It’s a thought that sets her stomach flipping. To be able to talk to him about the characters would indeed be a dream come true.

 

She comes back to herself and finds him staring at her. His eyes are gently scrutinizing, and it forces her to look anywhere but at him. Her fingers play with the elaborately decorated blanket upon his bed, and her gaze finds its way there. It’s safe scene to focus on, unlike his unhindered examination of her.

 

He clears his throat. “I, uh, found the passage where I left off. Want me to start?”

 

She swallows hard, before chancing a look upward. “Oh. Good. Please, continue,” She encourages and then takes a long pull of the spiced wine to calm the thundering of her heart. Keeping the focus off of Varric and the reading material help greatly. Her heart begins to slow and she feels the warmth of the wine rise up and curl around her insides, helping to regain some control over her feelings.

 

As soon as his eyes flick down to the book, she allows herself to look up again, and the sight sets her stomach fluttering with butterflies. The warm glow of the candlelight sets his red-blonde hair ablaze, and his tunic hangs open lazily exposing more of his hair covered chest than usual. It almost causes her to gasp, but she catches herself in time. Another gulp of wine quickly lines her lips, but it doesn’t seem to be having the same soothing effect it did before. It’s very disconcerting. But, before she can resort to using her Seeker training in order to re-focus, he begins to read, and she looses herself in the tale and the gruff voice that reads it.

 

 

_Night had fallen by the time Knight-Captain and the Guardsman reached the cavern. The dim light didn’t offer them much in the way of sight. It was a small blessing that Analine spotted a boulder at the mouth of the cave._

 

“ _I will have to go forage for food and wood if we are to survive the night. Will you be alright to stay here?”_

 

“ _I think so,” Dominic said with a grunt as he was lowered onto the hard rock and out of her arms._

 

“ _Good, but be wary. There’s no telling what could pass by. Make sure you are on high alert.”_

 

“ _I will... and Analine? Please be careful.”_

 

_In response, she touched her lips to his in a chaste kiss, a voiceless promise she would return unharmed. Pulling away from him, she gave a nod and made her way deeper into the cave. Thankfully, it didn’t take long for her to find some cave beetles scurrying about, and knowing that they were at least edible, she made quick work of killing and collecting enough to eat._

 

_Returning with an armful of insects half the size of her palm, she was greeted with the sight of Dominic slowly bringing in wood for their fire and a pit with stones already laid out. Together, they prepared the wood and in no time the bugs were roasting upon the stones that encircled the golden flames. It didn’t take long for the insects to cook, and even though they were an acquired taste, the bugs lined their bellies well enough. Finding herself reasonably full, Analine scooted closer to the fire as a chilly wind whipped around the mouth of the cavern._

 

“ _Come closer, my dearest. With nothing but the fire and the clothes on our back to keep us warm, we’ll need all the heat we can get.”_

 

 

 

In her anticipation, Cassandra’s tongue darts out to wet her lips. She’s read this part too many times not to know that the smut lies just beyond and her stomach coils around her desire like a snake. This time it’s different though. This time it’s not her own inner voice she hears. Not only is it the deep, gruff voice of her favourite author, but the man who is currently the object of her affections. A thrill shoots through her body, and her breath quickens. She inches closer, gripping the hard wood of the foot board as she leans forward, eagerly waiting for what will come next.

 

 

 

_Nodding, Analine scooted over and snuggled into Dominic as he wrapped his arm around her shoulders. This close, she could make out every detail of his handsome features; chocolate brown eyes, rimmed with long, dark lashes and soft chestnut brown hair that fell onto his face. She was captivated._

 

_Her fingers found their way to a stray lock of hair which had fallen against his forehead and she tucked it back into place. Just as her hand was about to pull away, it was caught within Dominic’s, their hands lacing together like it was always meant to be._

 

_Then, his lips found hers. Unlike the sweet, chaste kiss they had shared earlier, this one promised a passionate sensuality, sending a spark zipping through her veins and settling low in her belly. Analine’s blooming desire soon urged the kiss to deepen, their mouths and tongues exploring fervently. Dominic matched her pace, greedily moving his mouth from her lips to her jaw and the ivory column of her neck. She moaned at his touch, her hands roving hungrily, desperate to feel the heat of his skin._

 

 

Cassandra swears she hears Varric stutter the last few words of the sentence. She looks up and sees him shift uncomfortably in his chair, his hand coming up to adjust the heavy chain around his neck. She gawks. Suddenly, his eyes flick up to meet hers with an intense gaze, his pupils so blown out, only a small sliver of honeyed hazel can be seen. Her breath catches in her throat and her jaw drops, eyes growing wide. Cassandra’s world stops dead.

 

A blush rises on his tanned cheeks as he gives her a lopsided smile and his hand reaches up to rub at the golden stubble on his chin. It’s an enticing sight, one that sends her insides into a flurry of activity. Then his hand moves to his lips and he licks his finger, much slower than necessary, to turn the page. Andraste preserve her, if she wasn’t sitting far enough on the bed, she would have slid off right there and then. The innuendo is clear as day. Varric is flirting. And flirting with _her._ She clamps her mouth shut, and swallows hard as heat rips across her cheekbones like wildfire.

 

Cassandra isn’t quite sure what to do with this new information. Obviously, she is interested in him, but it had never occurred to her that he would be interested in return. It truly was extraordinary occurrence and one she never thought would ever come to fruition. Now that it has, she has no idea how to proceed. Thankfully, Varric takes the lead and continues on reading to her, giving her more time to deliberate her actions.

 

_Desperate to feel his skin upon her own, Analine pulled away and began unfastening her cuirass with shaking hands. Dominic followed suit, his hands a flurry as he worked his own off. As soon as they were free from the heavy metal, their bodies came back together with the force of a crashing wave in a storm. Lips smeared greedily over bare skin as they worked themselves into a lustful frenzy. Analine felt Dominic’s calloused hands drift over the plains of her stomach and up underneath her breast band to her bosoms, rubbing and pinching at her nipples unceremoniously. Analine’s head fell back and a loud moan fell from her lips. It felt glorious having his hands and lips upon her skin, but she wanted more. Needed more. Desperate to get in on the action, she allowed her fingers to slide down to the wast band of his breeches and begin undoing the ties with enthusiasm. Her breath quickened in excitement as she pulled the fabric away and found his hardened manhood brushing up against her hand. Slipping her hand around the silky skin of his shaft pulled a husky groan from his mouth._

 

The book slams shut and Cassandra is yanked from her imagination abruptly, confused and more than a little aroused.

 

“Nope. I can’t do this. I thought I might be able to keep it together but I can’t. Not when you’re sitting there all turned on like that.” Varric stands up, throws the book behind him haphazardly upon his desk and crosses the few feet that separate them.

 

Cassandra sucks in a sharp breath. His heady scent fills her nose due to his proximity. It’s intoxicating.

 

 

Before she can register what is happening, her head is between his palms. Then, he lowers his head and kisses her, hard.

 

It’s as if a dam inside of Cassandra has burst open. Her hands slide up his chest and shoulders, threading themselves in his hair, in wild abandon. She melts into his touch and instinctively deepens the kiss, desperate to have his taste upon her tongue. The angle is awkward though; the foot board is sticking into her stomach. This will simply not do.

 

Taking action without breaking the passionate kiss, she grabs the lapels of his tunic and pulls him sideways, so that the protruding object is no longer in the way. She guides him to her, maneuvring herself into a more comfortable position as she does so. Her legs part and she guides Varric between them, pulling him closer to her in the process, arms encircling his neck.

 

A throaty chuckle trickles from him as he moves his lips along her jaw to her throat. It sends heat pooling low in Cassandra’s belly as he nips and sucks at the skin there. Her eyes close and her head rolls back. Before she can even stop herself, a moan moves its way up her throat and out. The feeling of his stubble scratches at her skin, giving a sharp contrast to the inviting warmth of his mouth, and it’s exquisite. She can’t get enough.

 

 

His gruff voice tumbles out over her. “Trousers off. Now.”

 

She fumbles with her laces, not being able to undo the tie fast enough. Finally, the tie is free and he tugs at the legs of her breeches forcibly. The leather snags on her knees before he is able to rid her of them and he throws them over his shoulder, carelessly. His large hands caress the bare skin of her legs, evoking a trail of goose flesh to rise in their wake as they glide further and further up her thighs. In the dim light, through half-lidded eyes, Cassandra watches as he discovers her secret. The lack of small clothes covering her sex makes him gasp, surprise flitting over his features for a moment until it’s replaced by the lewdest grin she has ever seen. That grin sends a scorching fire burning in her belly and she pulls him down toward her, urgently needing his body pressing against hers in sweet friction.

 

She finds his manhood proudly pushing against her through the fabric of his breeches as she grinds against him. His head is bowed at her plated chest, great heaving pants are puffing out of him. There is still too much clothing and armour between them. Cassandra growls in frustration, pushing him up off her. Her hands claw at the belts and buckles of her cuirass frantically, yanking it over her head and into Varric’s awaiting hands. The gaze they share between them is smouldering. He leans over and places the chest and back piece on the ground with a clunk, before returning to her.

 

Her hands find the sash that is always tied around his waist, and begins to tug at the green fabric, loosening the knot, eagerly. As soon as it’s free, she flings it carelessly in the direction toward his desk and starts to pull at his red silk tunic. Unlike her own clothing, it comes off with ease and as soon as he is free, she rakes her eyes over his expansive chest, basking in all it’s glory. Her tongue licks at her lips before they find his again in another blistering kiss, hands daring to touch his bare skin. A guttural moan tumbles out of him as she slips her hands up and over his muscled shoulders to the back of his neck, burying her hands in his hair. If she doesn’t have him soon, she’s certain she’ll burst.

 

His hands are occupying themselves underneath her leather shirt now, sprawling across her back and up her torso until he finds her breast band and pulls it down, roughly. Cupping one of her breasts in his palm, Varric kneads it rolling her nipple between the crook of his fingers. She lets out another moan, blindsided at how he knows exactly what to do to make her almost fall apart in his hands. She can’t stand it any longer. Pulling him with her, she moves farther onto the bed. He follows willingly, crawling toward her with a predatory gaze and licking his lips.

 

The next thing she knows, he’s pulling at her leather shirt, tugging it over her head, her breast band following moments later. Once she’s completely free, his hands go to the laces of his breeches. Her eyes drink him in, flicking down to where his hands hastily pull at the drawstrings to find his manhood straining against the cloth, pulling it taught. Cassandra gasps breathlessly as manhood is revealed to her. He is as endowed as she suspected him to be, and as her lust resurges at the sight, she reaches out to stroke him.

 

She watches in awe as he hisses and closes his eyes at her touch. Fingers encircling and pumping just right, thumb gently gliding over the dusky coloured crown of his shaft to slicken up her palm. He groans at her ministrations, and it sends a jolt of pleasure to Cassandra’s groin. The fact he’s enjoying her hand is wonderful, but it pushes her need to have him inside her to unmanageable heights.

 

“I need you inside me. Please,” she purrs, not quite begging, but close.

 

He nods as a bead of sweat streaks down from his temple to his jaw. Strong arms hoist her behind up so her back end is resting upon his knees as he lines his manhood up with her centre. She feels the pressure of him as he poises himself between her legs, his mouth leaving wet kisses in the valley of her breasts. With one slow thrust, he enters her. A choked gasp crawls up her throat as she’s stretched wide.

 

He doesn’t move. Concern flitting over his features, Varric asks, “Are you alright? Did I go too fast?”

 

She shakes her head no, while trying to take steadying breaths through her nose as she adjusts to his girth. Cassandra feels impossibly full, but as the slight burn subsides and pleasure takes over, she knew it’s going to be well worth the wait.

 

Her hips rock gently, testing her body’s readiness. Varric closes his eyes at her movement and lets out a hum of satisfaction. His arms are shaking from holding back, body curled around her, waiting for her to take the lead. She arches her back against his thighs and they both moan at the feeling as he pushes deeper still into her.

 

She can’t hold back any longer. Her voice, rough with desire, scrapes against the walls of his bedroom. “Fuck me, Varric.”

 

 

~AJOY~

 

 

That’s all he needs to hear. His hips snap into her and she lets out a wail-like moan, her eyes closing in pleasure. He relishes in the way her body is moving around his, her warmth enveloping him, her sheath fluttering against his length. It very nearly makes him want to spill his seed. He knows better though. Holding back the urge to let go, he slams into her again and again, building up momentum with every thrust until they’ve achieved a break-neck pace. Soft grunts find their way out of his mouth as he pounds into her. Their skin slaps together brutally; the only other sound that bounces against the stone walls of his quarters.

 

No matter how erotic everything seems, it has nothing on Cassandra nearing her release. Her eyes flutter shut as she becomes slack-jawed and moans out his name, like a prayer. It’s the most gorgeous sight he’s ever seen, and vows to make her look like that as much as he can in the future.

 

She’s so close now, he can feel it. A well placed mouth and thumb should send her writhing under him in mere minutes if he times it right. Bowing his head once more to her breasts, he takes one of her nipples into his mouth and flicks at it with the flat of his tongue. It stands at attention in his mouth, and he sucks on it, grazing his teeth near the base. Cassandra moans loudly at his touch. Then he threads a hand between them, finding the sensitive nub between her legs, slick with their fucking, and rolls it around in a circular motion.

 

She falls apart instantly, shuddering and crying out his name as she comes around him. The rhythmic squeezing of her own orgasm pulls his own from him, fireworks flashing behind his eyes as he spills himself inside her.

 

His manhood twitches with the after shocks and he lets out a breathless laugh, still stunned at the events which have come about. He moves off of her, certain that if he doesn’t she’ll attempt to shove him off, and lays on his side, head propped up in one hand. Her eyes are closed and she’s breathing hard, but the satisfied smile on her face says it all. Her eyes open, but instead of what he expects, she looks at him with uncertain eyes. Something in his gut clenches and for a minute he thinks she’s regretting the whole encounter. Clearing his throat nervously, he goes to get up and put some space between them, but her hand finds his arm and he stops.

 

“Stay. Please?”

 

He looks at her from the corner of his eye. “Okay.”

 

They stay silent as they lay together on top of his blankets, their bodies rapidly cooling in the brisk room. Her body shivers after a moment, and he realizes that they probably find some cover.

 

“You’re starting to shake, Seeker. Why don’t we scoot under the blankets.”

 

“Yes. That’s a good idea.”

 

Varric gets up, and pulls back the covers for Cassandra as she maneuvers underneath the heavy fabric, and then gets back into bed himself. They continue to lay in silence. There’s no escaping the Bronto in the room and Varric can’t help but broach the subject for clarity’s sake. He’d rather get it out of the way now, then find her gone in the morning without so much as an explanation. That doesn’t mean he’s not nervous as a baby Halla, though.

 

“So...” He can’t seem to find the words, which is odd enough in itself. It’s not that he doesn’t want to talk about it, but his heart stops him in fear of her possible rejection.

 

She rolls onto her side and looks at him. “Varric, trouble yourself no further. If I didn’t want this, you would know. I would have punched you and left.

 

He smirks at her honesty.

 

She continues. “What I would like to know is what this means for us now—how do we proceed?

 

“Well,” he starts and lets out a heavy sigh, “I’d be up for seeing where this leads, if you are?” He turns and faces her to gauge her better. “And I don’t mean just the sex, either.”

 

His heart is hanging by a thread as he waits for her reply.

 

Cassandra gazes at him, her face unreadable for the moment. “So you would be interested in courting me? Properly?” Her features morph into an expression of gentle hope.

 

Varric’s eyebrows raise at the formality of her words. “Seeker, did you just ask me to court you? I mean, yes, I’d like that, but does it have to sound so-” his hands gesture wildly, “formal?”

 

“What? So am I not allowed to be properly courted?”

 

He sees her hackles rise and his eyebrows lift in alarm. “No! I mean, of course you should be, but I just think the word is so... old fashioned.” She relaxes in understanding and gives him a small but bold smile.

 

“You think that word is old fashioned? I’m very surprised to hear you say that. I never imagined you, a renowned author, would think that.” She chuckles for a minute but then turns serious. “So, you will then?”

 

His hand reaches out and cups her cheek. “Yeah, I think I’d like that, Cassandra.”

 

Her eyes grow wide at the mention of her proper given name, but before she’s able to voice her surprise, his lips touch hers in a sensuous kiss.

 

 

~AJOY~

 

 

“Fasta vass, where is that dwarf?” Krem mutters under his breath. He’d checked all of Varric’s other usual spots, but to no avail. Where is he?

 

Varric’s room was the last place on the list. If he wasn’t there, Krem wouldn’t know what to tell the Chief. He half wondered if Bull hadn’t sent him on a wild Nug chase just for shits and giggles. As Krem nears Varric’s quarters he begins to hear unusual sounds coming from behind his door. Sounds that could only be described as sexual. And not just from Varric either. Krem caught the sound of a Nevarran lilt as Varric’s name was called out in passion.

 

Oh. _OH._

 

Heat rises on his cheeks. Best not to disturb him then.

 

Turning around without even bothering to knock, he makes his way back to Bull in the Herald’s Rest.

 

“So?” Bull looks at his second in command, expectantly.

 

 “You’ll never guess, Chief," Krem teases.

 

The Chief's smile widens mischievously. “Oh yeah, Krem puff? Try me.”

 

“It sounds like Varric is getting his leg over Cassandra.”

 

Bull’s laugh booms out and slams his hand on the table, making the chargers groan as their swill is spilled over the wood. “I knew it! I knew he wouldn’t make it to the game tonight, that lucky bastard!”

 

Krem laughs along with him. “I should have known you knew something was up when you sent me to fetch him like a Maker-forsaken Mabari! How long have you known?!”

 

Bull lets out a final chuckle and wipes the stray tear at his good eye. “Not long, but it doesn’t matter. What really matters is that he’s never, _ever_ going to live this down!” The Chief stands up and yells toward Cabot. “This calls for a celebration! Free round of drinks for everyone, and Varric’s buying!”


End file.
